


Ever Dream Of Me

by BlackRose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 06:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRose/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: Inspired by this: http://ukenceto.tumblr.com/image/171221874854  lovely art by ukenceto. Go give them some love!





	Ever Dream Of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ukenceto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukenceto/gifts).



> Inspired by this: http://ukenceto.tumblr.com/image/171221874854 lovely art by ukenceto. Go give them some love!

It begins slowly.

By the time the Shield realizes his King is stricken; it is already too late to save him. What Gilgamesh thought were bruises on Ardyn's hands, were in fact lesions forming, wounds opening up to become sour and fetid. He'd taken for sunstroke the creeping, spreading fever-flush staining His Majesty's face. The first time he shifts, it is in a painful jolt out of deep slumber. His retainer tries to steady him, to calm him back to reality with gentle touch and a calm voice. But Ardyn will not be soothed. He snarls, bleeding lips drawn back tight over a charred-black tongue. His sunrise-colored eyes are harsh and yellow, his tears murky. 

With a sharp flick of his head side-to-side----as if shaking free of deep water----Ardyn looks at him as if out of a deep well. 

"D'you hear them, Gilgamesh? Is it...am I alone, in hearing how they cry and struggle in pain?"

He tries to ask whose voices so torment his King, but Ardyn is no longer listening and will not respond. 

He dies a few weeks later, for the first time. By the then the Scourge has licked grey fire up his limbs. Below his hips and elbows the skin is bloodless and cold, and the tremors so severe he can no longer walk. Gilgamesh carries him into the grotto where is found the healing spring. Its waters are said to cure even the most desperate of crises, and the Shield can only pray this is true. He wades in hip-deep, Ardyn lying in his arms like soiled rags. Days of relentless fever have addled his mind; his slitted eyes blink wildly and he murmurs names of those not present---nor even alive. He breathes hitchingly, first fast and deep, then slow, shallow, and with long pauses between. 

Towards the end he wakes---truly wakes---and meets his Shield's tearful eyes. 

" _Gilgameshhhhh_ ," he sighs, the word fading away and carrying his soul with it.


End file.
